


Paintball Wizard

by hazelandglasz



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Awkward Flirting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Paintball, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:39:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5027002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anonymous asked:i hit you in the balls in a paintball match i’m so sorry oh my god au (the little masochist in me says YES PLEASE, with klaine)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paintball Wizard

Kurt has always been fairly competitive.

That’s probably why his classmates elected him Team Leader when the school organized a giant paintball war between the different departments.

Kurt is more than proficient with a paintball gun, and getting rid of the drama department is a piece of cake--Kurt literally ate a cake as he shot the last remaining “dramatic” in the head.

Green really is not Hunter’s color.

Now, from what he gathered, there’s only one department standing between his team and the trophy.

Creative Writing and Composition.

Eurgh, those snobs.

Kurt rearms his gun and squares his shoulders.

Behind him, what’s left of the Acting and Dancing Department follows his lead, checking their ammos and readjusting their protective pads.

“Don’t count on me to make a motivating speech,” Kurt says, looking at them. “Just keep in mind that those are the ones who tried to make us play a musical based on Waterworld last winter!”

“Let’s kick some ass!” someone shouts, and Kurt smiles, recognizing Rachel’s voice--he was half-convinced she had been taken out by a friendly fire.

“Let’s kick some ass!” he shouts back, leading them out of the bushes where they were hiding.

It takes him a surprisingly long time to find one of their opponents, but the moment seems to stretch for far longer than the ten seconds it actually did.

The man turns on his heels, eyes wide and surprised like a rabbit spooked out of its hole, and Kurt has his finger on the trigger, he really does, but something keeps him from shooting.

Something he would love to call “love at first sight”, except that the next second, the guy closes his eyes, screams and shoots.

A paint ball.

Right in Kurt’s.

Balls, that is.

Sure, Kurt has been kicked and pushed more than his fair share in the past, but he has managed to reach his twenties without ever getting hit in the balls.

And now that he is going through that particular brand of pain, he misses the lightness of getting thrown in dumpsters.

The pain of the hit itself makes him fall to his knee, and then it travels up to his stomach, making him feel like he has been punched, and he drops to his hands to dry heave.

“Oh shit.”

Kurt doesn’t know if he said that, if someone else said that, all he knows is that he’s going through a bad flashback of that time he lost a bet to Santana and drove to the Reservoir and dived in it butt-naked.

Except, with additional pain thrown in the mix.

“Stop! Stop, come on guys, stop! I’m sorry! Please!”

Kurt takes several short breaths, reminiscent of a Lamaze technique, and the pain fades to a dull throbbing.

Sitting on his haunches, he still reaches down, a silly gesture to make sure that everything is still here.

The three-piece suit is complete, now that’s a relief.

Now he can return his focus on what’s going on.

Apparently, his team has taken as their purpose to “avenge” him, [pelting](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ls8qsmxuTx1r1yuuyo1_r2_400.gif) the CWC who shot him with as many paintballs as humanly possible.

The guy is on the ground where Kurt found him in the first place, rolled into a tight ball as he protects his head from the shots, and Kurt can hear him sobbing.

“Stop!!” Kurt shouts, standing up to his full height, barely controlling his wince of pain as he opens his arms wide in front of the guy. “Are you all insane?”

Some of his teammates look properly chastised, while some look downright belligerent.

Kurt sighs and waves them away. “Go, go--I’m out, but you can still beat the rest of the Creatives.”

The angrier part of the lot runs away in a trot while the others mouth apologies as they walk by them.

“Hey.” Kurt crouches next to the guy, his hand hovering next to his shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s over.”

A last, heartbreaking sob comes from the guy before he drops his arms and reveals his tear-stained face.

“Are you in pain?” Kurt continues, observing the damage. “They really did a number on you.”

“‘s okay,” the guy says, taking his helmet off and throwing it to the floor as he sits up. “Don’t worry about me.” The man pauses, sighing, and a sweaty curl falls over his forehead, tempting Kurt to just brush it away. “And shouldn’t I be the one worrying about you?” the man adds with a sniffle, looking at Kurt more closely. “I did shoot you in a fairly sensitive area.”

“Bullseye here,” Kurt confirms, sitting next to the guy. If he got distracted from his “mission” because of what he saw through the helmet, it’s nothing compared to the man’s gorgeous features out of it. “But you’re the one who got trampled over by my team, so …”

“Yeah,” the man says, looking down in embarrassment. “I just had a stupid reaction.”

“From the looks of it, it wasn’t stupid,” Kurt says softly, tilting his head to the side to look at his companion more closely. “But you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to …”

“Just a … bad memory,” the man says, leaning his cheek against his knee to look at Kurt. “I’m Blaine.”

“Kurt.”

They shake hands and sit back, listening at the ongoing fight somewhere in the distance.

“You’re one of the Actors, aren’t you,” Blaine says, some natural colors returning to his face as he progressively calms down.

“Yep--majoring in Musicals.”

“You have the voice for it--I saw your rendition of the Return of the Jedi piece.”

Kurt preens at the compliment. “I did ace that one--I have to find which one of you penpushers provided this piece of genius.”

Under the spatters of green and pink and yellow, there is a definite blush forming on Blaine’s cheek. “That--that would be me.”

Kurt’s eyes widen. “You? Seriously,” he says, turning more fully towards Blaine, “those arrangements? It made me emotional.”

Blaine smiles, looking down at his feet, and there is that damn curl again, seriously, Kurt wants to do things to that curl.

What’s more important, he wants to do things to the cute man it’s attached to and his cute smile and his general adorableness.

“You’re the one who made it a masterpiece,” Blaine finally says, his eyelashes casting shadows over his rainbow cheeks. “I couldn’t have asked for a better interpreter.”

“Now wait a minute,” Kurt says, thinking of something. “Were you also responsible for the Waterworld disaster?”

Blaine winces at that. “I did not agree with it, but once the decision was made, all I could do was give my part.”

“The only salvageable part of that trainwreck,” Kurt says, bumping their shoulders.

“You’re too kind.”

“Just sayin’ it as it is,” Kurt replies, “if you knew me, you’d know that I am not a kind person.”

“I doubt it,” Blaine says softly, “but I would love to.”

“To?”

“Get to know you?”

“Oh.”

“I mean, if that’s what you--”

“No, yeah, sure, I--I would love to too.”

Blaine lets out a small chuckle, whispering “too-too” before another laugh comes out of his mouth, then a peal of giggles, and Kurt can’t resist it.

Soon enough, they’re both laughing, supporting each other and groaning every time their laughs bring a bruise back into the limelight.

“Ah! In your face, Evans! Woohoo!!”

They both turn their heads to look in the direction of the victorious shout, and Blaine sighs.

“I guess congratulations are in o--oh,” he says, before turning back to look at Kurt. Except that Kurt is much closer now, and Kurt can feel the moment Blaine gasps, the air brushing against his lips and cheek.

Kurt can hear his heart rhythming a samba in his chest, and he’s pretty sure that the whole forest can hear it too, but there is nothing on Earth that could make him look away in this moment.

“Congratulations,” Blaine whispers, his eyes darting between Kurt’s eyes and lips.

Kurt crosses the small distance between them, pressing his lips to Blaine’s for a millisecond.

“Congratulations accepted,” he replies, voice far too rough for his liking.

“As an apology and a celebration, I could--I could invite you for a coffee?” Blaine asks as they get back to their feet. “Or lunch, dinner, afternoon snack?”

Kurt takes a deep breath, a beaming smile spreading on his face as he takes it all in--he won, and he might have gotten a boyfriend out of it too. Sure, he got hit in the balls, but it might be worth it; all in all, a fairly good day for Kurt Hummel.

He turns to Blaine and puts his hands on his waist. “Make that an afternoon delight, and I’m in.”

Blaine’s lips form a small “o” for a moment, before stretching into a crooked smirk.

“Kurt Hummel, may I ask you out for a date of delights of many shapes and forms?” he asks, holding up his hand. He’s smirking alright, but there is just a shade of doubt in his eyes as he waits for Kurt’s answer.

“Yes, yes you may,” Kurt replies, putting his hand in Blaine’s. “As long as we leave the paintball guns behind.”

Blaine throws his gun away immediately, pulling a loud laugh from Kurt. “Anything for you,” Blaine says, threading their fingers together.

Kurt can feel his cheeks heating up, but he doesn’t mind--not one bit.


End file.
